Friday, November 6, 2009

Poetry Friday

The August moon glitters in the kitchenlike a tin-plated pot (it gets that waybecause of what I'm saying to you),it lights up the empty house andthe house's kneeling silence --always the silence remains kneeling.

Every word is a doorwayto a meeting, one often canceled,and that's when a word is true:when it insists on the meeting.